


Accident

by AutisticWriter



Category: The Fast Show
Genre: Accidents, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Bickering, Broken Bones, Crying, Fear, Friendship, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Needles, One Shot, Pain, Phobias, Swearing, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 01:26:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8081311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutisticWriter/pseuds/AutisticWriter
Summary: When the Offroaders go on yet another expedition, this one goes even more wrong than usual. And, the next thing they know, they’re in hospital.





	

“You’re a complete tit, Lindsey!” Simon snapped, slapping at Lindsey’s head.

“I said I’m sorry, Si,” Lindsey muttered, pulling the now broken car out from where it had become embedded in a tree. One of its wheels was hanging off the body; basically it was totally knackered.

They had gone out to the countryside to try out their new cross country remote control cars, and, of course, fucking Lindsey had fucking ruined it. Again.

“And stop sniggering, Baz!” Simon snapped.

Baz stopped laughing, but he wouldn’t wipe that irritating grin off of his face. He moved the camera so his face was hidden, but Simon knew he was still grinning.

“Stop being so pissy, Si,” Lindsey said.

“I’ll stop being pissy when you learn how to use a fucking remote control!” Simon shouted.

“Stop treating me like a fucking idiot!” Lindsey shouted. “You always do, and it gets on my fucking nerves! If you’re so much cleverer than me, why’ve you only got two bloody O-Levels – even I got four.”

“Shut the fuck up, Lindsey!” Simon snapped, glaring at him, hating it when Lindsey brought that up.

To his irritation, Baz spluttered with laughter. Simon rounded on him.

“I told you to stop laughing, Barry!” He yelled.

Baz visibly flinched as Si used his full name. He only got called ‘Barry’ when he’d really pissed someone off.

“Sorry,” Baz said, but he didn’t sound sorry. Simon glared at him.

Simon sighed and turned back to Lindsey, who was still holding the wrecked car.

“Give me that, you tit,” he said, wrenching the car out of Lindsey’s hands with such force he bent Lindsey’s fingers back.

“Will you stop calling me a tit?” Lindsey shouted, rubbing his fingers.

“You _are_ a tit!”

Lindsey sighed, still glaring at him.

“How many times, Simon? It. Was. An. Accident.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve broken it, does it?”

“Fucking hell,” Lindsey hissed through gritted teeth.

Lindsey clenched his hands into fists; he was visibly shaking with anger. Simon had never seen him so angry.

“You’ve fucked it up, Lindsey, just like you always do!” Simon snapped.

“Do you just want be to fuck off, then, if I’m so fucking useless?” Lindsey cried, and Simon could’ve sworn that he looked a little hurt.

“Yes, I think I would!” Simon shouted back, at that precise moment just wanting Lindsey to get the fuck away from him.

“Fine!” Lindsey yelled, his voice cracking. “I’ll just fuck off, then!”

“Fine! You do that!”

“Fine! I will!”

And, just like that, Lindsey stormed off. Sighing, Simon spun around so he couldn’t see Lindsey walking away, and folded his arms across his chest. He was shaking too.

“Wanker,” he muttered.

All of a sudden, he heard a high pitched scream, followed a few seconds later by a huge thud. Slowly, Simon turned to look at Baz, who had the camera pointed at where Lindsey had just been.

“What happened, Baz?” He asked, not sure he actually wanted the answer.

Baz’s eyes were wide. “I think he’s just fallen down the hill.”

“Fuck.”

Baz swinging the camera over his shoulder, they both hurried off to the edge of the hill they were both stood on. Just as Baz had thought, Lindsey had clearly tripped as he was trying to walk down the very steep slope, because he was now sprawled in a heap at the bottom. Simon could see Lindsey looking up at them, and felt a wave of relief when he realised that he was conscious.

“Fucking hell, Linds, are you all right?” Simon said, forgetting that they had just been arguing.

“No I’m fucking not!” Lindsey yelled, his voice shaking like he was in pain.

Simon and Baz carefully made their way down the hill (it was certainly much harder to go down than it was to go up), being careful to avoid the rabbit holes, and approached Lindsey. He was clutching at his ankle, and there was a massive graze on the side of his face. Somehow, that fucking hat had stayed on his head.

“What happened, mate?” Baz asked as they both kneeled down beside him. Simon rather thought that was a fucking stupid question, but he didn’t say anything. He was more interested in Lindsey, wanting to check if he was all right.

Lindsey took a deep, shuddering breath, and Simon was alarmed to see his eyes shining. “My foot got caught down a rabbit hole . . . I heard a s-snap . . . I think it’s broken, Si . . .”

Simon looked down at Lindsey’s left foot and grimaced. His shoe had been thrown off, and his foot was twisted ninety degrees to the left, making it look like it was about to fall off. Lindsey’s hands were wrapped around his lower leg, but he didn’t seem able to touch the injured part.

“Yeah, that’s broken,” Simon said, grimacing. Baz looked a bit sick.

“It f-fucking hurts,” Lindsey moaned, screwing his face up.

“I’ll bet it does,” Baz muttered.

“Come on, Linds,” Simon said, sitting down beside him. “You’re all right.”

Up close, he saw that Lindsey’s facial injuries were worse than he thought. In amongst the grazes covering most of his cheek, there was a thin cut, oozing blood, which looked like he’d caught his face on a sharp stone. His eyes looked strange too, like they weren’t completely in focus. He must have hit his head harder than they’d first thought.

“Do I n-need to go to h-hospital?” Lindsey asked, glancing at Simon and Baz with a slightly pleading expression on his face.

Simon looked at Baz, who nodded, and nodded himself.

“Yeah, I think so, mate,” he said.

“Should we take him now?” Baz asked.

Simon shrugged. “Not much point just sitting here watching Linds get worse, is there?”

“No there’s bloody not,” Lindsey muttered.

“Right then,” Baz said, getting to his feet and smiling down at Lindsey. “Up you get, Linds. Let’s get your leg sorted out.”

Lindsey looked a little apprehensive, but then he smiled weakly at them both.

“Sorted,” he said softly.

Simon realised what he was saying, and raised his eyebrows. “Just come on, you silly sod.”

Simon and Baz each took hold of one of Lindsey’s arms and hauled him up onto his good foot. Lindsey let out a high pitched groan and slumped against Simon, screwing his eyes up.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, swaying unsteadily.

Putting Lindsey’s arms around their shoulders, Simon and Baz helped him make a slow and clearly painful journey towards the Land Rover. Lindsey kept groaning and swearing under his breath.

“Nearly there, Linds,” Simon said, feeling incredibly sorry for his friend.

Eventually, after what felt like hours but couldn’t have been more than five minutes, they got Lindsey into the back seat of the Land Rover, with his broken ankle propped up on a pile of blankets. His face was ashen, and his eyes looked weirder than ever. After giving Lindsey’s shoulder a reassuring pat, Simon got behind the wheel, and started the car.

Simon looked in the rear view mirror as he drove, watching Lindsey wince and groan as they went over bumps.

Baz, sat in the passenger seat, was studying the map. He turned around in his seat and said to Lindsey, “We’ll be back on the road soon, Linds.”

Lindsey nodded his head slightly, smiling weakly. “Cheers, Baz.”

After about ten minutes, they did get back onto the road, and Simon noticed a marked improvement in Lindsey’s behaviour. He was clearly still in a lot of pain, but he had stopped groaning, and he was even chatting every so often with him and Baz. He just hoped that Lindsey wasn’t going to get even worse.

\---

“Si, I think I’m going to be sick,” Lindsey said weakly, almost half an hour later.

A quick glance in the mirror showed Simon that Lindsey’s face was grey, and his hand was pressed against his stomach. There was no doubt in his mind that Lindsey was right.

“Shit, right, I’ll pull over,” Simon said, hoping Lindsey wouldn’t puke all over their Land Rover.

“Just hang on, Linds,” Baz said, turning around in his seat again.

As Simon searched for a place to pull over, Lindsey clamped his hand over his mouth and groaned. After what seemed like hours, Simon found a lay-by, and he pulled the Land Rover off of the road. He slammed the breaks on and jumped out of the car. Baz mirrored him, and got to Lindsey’s door before Simon did. By the time he got there, Baz was already helping Lindsey out onto the concrete.

“Let me help,” Simon said, grabbing Lindsey’s other arm and helping Baz ease him up onto his working leg.

“Cheers, mate,” Baz gasped, sounding out of breath.

Lindsey didn’t say anything; he had his mouth clamped shut, and his eyes were screwed up.

They only managed to get Lindsey a few steps away from the car before his good leg buckled at the knee. Swearing, Simon and Baz tried to lower Lindsey down onto his good knee, but not before his broken foot slammed against the ground.

Lindsey let out a truly agonised cry that made Simon want to cover his ears, before throwing up all over the ground in front of him.

“Shit, sorry, sorry,” they were both mumbling, and Simon started rubbing Lindsey’s back as his friend continued to retch, feeling incredibly sorry for him.

Simon felt even worse when he got a better look at Lindsey’s now very red face, because he found that tears were dribbling down Lindsey’s cheeks.

“Linds,” he said softly, “don’t cry.”

Baz moved his head to get a look at Lindsey’s face, and his eyes widened.

“He’s crying?” He mouthed, looking like he couldn’t believe it. Simon nodded.

Lindsey spat out a mouthful of funny coloured saliva, and breathed in very deeply, his eyes still screwed up, tears still running down his cheeks.

“Not cr-crying,” Lindsey gasped, and he smiled weakly. He opened his eyes, and grinned as well as he could at Simon, even though tears were still trickling down his face.

Simon glanced at Baz, and saw he was smiling too. He realised that Lindsey was expecting him to play along.

“Of course you’re not, mate,” he said, and a smile crossed his own face.

Lindsey continued to look at him, and then he pulled him into a sudden, tight hug. Taken aback, Simon awkwardly patted his back, feeling Lindsey shake with sobs. Simon looked up at Baz, who started patting Lindsey’s shoulder, looking as confused as he felt.

“I feel like shit, Si,” Lindsey cried into his chest.

Simon looked at his broken ankle and the puke all over the ground, and sighed.

“I bet you do, mate,” He said.

\---

When they finally found a hospital which actually had an Accident and Emergency department, Baz jumped out of the Land Rover and ran into the building. He returned a minute or so later pushing a wheelchair, which he brought right up Lindsey’s door. Lindsey looked a bit better since he’d been sick, but his face was still horribly pale, and the bruising on his grazed cheek was looking worse than ever.

“Here you are, Linds,” Baz said, opening Lindsey’s door and showing him the chair.

“Cool,” Lindsey said shakily, trying to smile.

With a fair bit more skill than the first time they tried this, Simon and Baz got Lindsey out of the car and standing on his good leg. He wobbled unsteadily, breathing shakily, but, this time, he didn’t look like he was going to faint. When Lindsey was steady, they eased him into the wheelchair, carefully supporting his broken ankle. Baz pushed the wheelchair, and Simon walked alongside Lindsey. At one point, Lindsey reached out and grabbed his hand, and Simon didn’t pull away.

He let go once they entered A and E, and had to ignore the disappointed look on Lindsey’s sweaty face. Simon got Lindsey signed in at the desk, and then went and joined him and Baz in the corner of the half-full waiting room.

“How’re you feeling?” Baz asked Lindsey.

“Bit better now I’m here,” Lindsey said, leaning the back of his head against the wall. “Still, I kind of wish you’d’ve called an ambulance, ‘cause then I could’ve had that gas and air stuff. Might’ve helped with the constant pain.”

“They’ll probably give you something for the pain when you go through to be treated, mate,” Baz said.

Simon patted Lindsey’s shoulder, and Lindsey smiled weakly. As they waited and waited, and Simon was forced to just watch his friend deal with the awful pain in his ankle, Simon found himself wishing that he could get rid of Lindsey’s pain himself.

\---

Sometime later, a nurse came into the waiting room and called Lindsey’s name.

“About bloody time,” Baz muttered. He had been watching the clock, and had recently announced the three hour mark after they first arrived at A&E.

The nurse raised her eyebrows, obviously having heard what Baz said, but didn’t say anything.

Simon pushing the wheelchair, she led them into a small room off of a long corridor. As Simon got Lindsey out of the chair and onto the edge of the bed, the nurse sat down that the desk and got out a clipboard. Lindsey’s broken ankle looked even worse as his leg dangled, because it showed just how distorted his foot now looked.

“Right,” the nurse said. “Can you explain to me what happened?”

Lindsey glanced pleadingly at Simon, and he knew it was going to be up to him to explain what had happened. Taking a deep breath, Simon told the nurse all about Lindsey’s fall, and his broken ankle and injured face, and how he was extremely nauseous in the car and they had to pull over for him to the sick, and how the pain was so severe that he had actually cried.

“I see,” the nurse said when he had finished, scribbling down notes in shorthand on her clipboard, sounding like she’d seen loads of injuries like this before. “Can I see the injury?”

With some apprehension, Lindsey nodded. She got him to lie back on the bed, and then grasped his leg above the fracture. Lindsey craned his head up so he could see what the nurse was doing, and Simon could see the fear on his face. The nurse carefully pulled back Lindsey’s jeans, exposing his ankle. Simon felt a bit sick, and Lindsey winced, grabbing for his hand again.

“Bloody hell,” Simon gasped, feeling Lindsey grip his hand so hard his fingers went numb.

Lindsey’s ankle was even more distorted now he had seen it without the fabric over the top. His skin was totally white and stretched over the bone, which was poking in the wrong direction like it was about to burst through the skin. Lindsey groaned and laid his head back so he couldn’t see anymore.

“Yes,” the nurse said, smiling sympathetically. “That is definitely fractured. I’ll send you for an X-ray to confirm the exact type of fracture, but there’s no doubt that this is broken. Now, let’s have a look at your face.”

The nurse peered closely at Lindsey’s grazed face.

“I think this will require stitches,” she said, poking at the cut with her gloved hands; Lindsey winced. Her fingers came back stained red.

Lindsey nodded, but his facial expression made Simon wonder if he’d been listening to a word she’d said. He was still gripping Simon’s hand like he couldn’t let go. Simon watched the nurse get a wipe out of box and approached Lindsey.

“I’m just going to clean the wound first,” she explained. “This might sting a little.”

Lindsey smiled weakly, as though he didn’t believe her. But, when she started to wipe his face, he winced, squeezing Simon’s hand even tighter.

“Sorry,” the nurse said, giving Lindsey a sympathetic smile. “I’m afraid you’ll need an injection next.”

“What?” Lindsey cried, finally looking alert, sitting further forward on the bed, his eyes wide. He was still holding Simon’s hand, and, once again, he squeezed Simon’s hand painfully hard.

“It’s nothing serious, don’t worry—”

“Don’t worry?” Lindsey cried, his eyes even wider. Simon could feel his hand getting soaked in Lindsey’s sweat.

“What’s the matter?” The nurse said, clearly alarmed by Lindsey’s panicky behaviour. “It’s just an injection to numb your face so the stitches don’t hurt.”

Lindsey, who had winced when she said the word ‘injection’, took in a deep breath, and looked like he was trying to calm himself down. However, it didn’t look remotely convincing.

“Nothing’s the matter,” he said, smiling a smile that looked much more like a grimace.

Obviously not believing Lindsey, the nurse turned to Simon instead. “What’s the matter with him?”

“He’s scared of needles,” Simon said softly.

“Simon!” Lindsey whined, letting go of his hand. “I’m not really _scared_ , I just . . .”

Simon raised his eyebrows at the nurse, knowing Lindsey was talking crap. Like anyone who had known Lindsey for more than a few hours, Simon knew that Lindsey was terrified of several things, and, although he tried his best to deny his phobias, there was no hiding the fact that he had them. The phobias Simon was currently aware of were: heights, spiders, bees and wasps, and needles. And Simon knew this because he had been with Linds every time he had a complete freak out.

“Well . . .” the nurse said, not sounding like she knew what to say about what Simon had told her. She wasn’t the only one.

They deliberated about what they were going to do about giving Linds the injection; in the end, Lindsey was so sick of arguing (that never normally happened; he must have been feeling worse that Si thought) that he gave in and said she could do it.

“Yes, you can do it!” Lindsey said, and Simon knew from his tense body language that he was close to having another freak out. “Just don’t let me look at it.”

She smiled, “That’s good. You’ll be fine, you know.”

The nurse went got another wipe out of the box and wiped Lindsey’s cheek, just below the cut. Lindsey flinched at the contact. Simon was pretty certain that Lindsey didn’t believe her reassuring words.

As the nurse got the needle out of the cupboard and prepared to use it, Lindsey screwed his eyes up and hunched forward slightly. Simon could hear his shallow, rapid breaths, and felt sorry for him; he was clearly panicking.

“It’ll be over really quick, Linds,” he said, keeping his voice quiet so the nurse couldn’t hear him. “And I’m here, all right?”

Simon took Lindsey’s hand, and gave it a comforting squeeze. Lindsey smiled weakly, still not opening his eyes. But when he heard the nurse’s voice, Lindsey’s smile vanished, and he gripped Si’s hand harder than ever before; Simon had to grit his teeth to stop himself wincing.

“Right, then, I’m going to inject you on the count of three, all right?”

Simon looked at the needle; it wasn’t very big at all, but he knew that didn’t matter to Lindsey. Lindsey nodded his head, but he didn’t look like he understood what the nurse was saying at all.

“One . . .” the nurse said, holding the needle right in front of Lindsey’s face. His breathing hitched; Simon’s fingers had gone numb by now from him squeezing his hand. “Two . . . three.”

She jabbed Lindsey’s cheek with the needle. He winced, but didn’t scream or freak out, as Simon had feared.

The nurse put the needle back in the packaging it had come in, and then dropped it into the sharps container. “I’ve put the needle away.”

Cautiously, Lindsey opened his eyes, and looked at Simon. He smiled weakly.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“I s’pose not,” Lindsey muttered, not sounding like he believed Si in the slightest.

Once the anaesthetic had sufficiently numbed Lindsey’s cheek, the nurse raised her eyebrows, and approached Lindsey. Simon, who had needed stitches before, realised what was coming, and suppressed a groan.

“Um, I’m afraid I’m going to use another needle,” the nurse said apprehensively.

“Fuck!” Si and Lindsey said together, Si knowing they were going to have to repeat the same thing all over again, except, this time, the needle would be much bigger.

\---

A while later, once Linds had had his stitches and was starting to get the feeling back in his face, the nurse told them it was time for Lindsey’s X-ray, and gave them directions to the radiology department. Simon got Lindsey back in his wheelchair, and pushed him through A&E and towards the right department; Simon got a bit lost, and he was pleased when this made Lindsey chuckle.

When they finally got there, they found there was an hour long wait for Lindsey’s X-ray, and Simon sighed. He pushed the chair towards a seat, and sat down beside Lindsey.

“Bloody typical,” he muttered.

“Yep,” Lindsey said, nodding slightly.

Simon looked at Lindsey. He looked bloody weird with those stitches in his cheek; his face looked puckered amongst the black stitches (which made his face look paler than ever), and the skin around the stitches looked stretched.

Ten minutes later, the door to the X-ray corridor opened and Lindsey and the nurse appeared. Lindsey was grimacing; Simon heard him whimper as she wheeled him down the corridor.

Lindsey and the nurse returned five minutes after that, Lindsey screwing his face up and groaning. The nurse took the next patient down the corridor, leaving Lindsey with Simon.

“What’s the matter, Linds?” He asked, leaning forward in his seat.

Keeping his eyes screwed up, Lindsey mumbled, “Banged my leg as I was sitting down on the thing.”

Simon sighed, wondering how many more times Lindsey was going to hurt himself today.

\---

After being told the X-ray results would take at least half an hour, Simon decided that he and Lindsey should go back to the waiting room. Baz had fallen asleep; his head was lolling back against the wall, and his mouth was open, spit dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. Simon grinned mischievously, and, once he had parked Lindsey’s wheelchair beside Baz’s seat, Simon decided to wake him up the way they always woke each other up when they went camping as teenagers.

With a glance at Lindsey, who was smiling weakly, knowing what was coming, Simon stood in front of Baz and put his thumb and finger on Baz’s nose, pinching his nostrils shut. After a few seconds, Baz made a strange snorting noise, and his head jerked forwards as he awoke with a start, gasping for breath.

Baz glanced around, and, seeing Si stood right in front of him, glared at him.

“What the fuck, Si?!” He yelled, but he was grinning.

Lindsey was grinning too, and, when Baz saw this, he just looked glad that he’d been able, in some way, to make Lindsey smile.

\---

After two more hours (during which they got the results back for Lindsey’s X-ray (snapped fibula) Lindsey got his leg cast up from below the knee to his foot, and he got a nice pair of elbow crutches down in the physio department) Simon was incredibly relieved to be leading a very unsteady and knackered Lindsey back towards the waiting room, where, after picking up Baz, they could go home.

Lindsey couldn’t quite get the knack of using his crutches, and kept stumbling and almost falling. Simon decided that it would be safer if he kept hold of Lindsey’s shoulder. Finally, they got back to the waiting room, where they found Baz, reading a newspaper.

Baz looked up as Simon helped Lindsey hobble towards him.

“Cool, mate,” he said, grinning. “Nice crutches.”

Lindsey smiled weakly; he was clearly still in pain; Simon wondered when the painkillers would start working. Or, maybe, the painkillers simply weren’t powerful enough to get rid of all his pain. But, anyway, at least he was smiling. As long as he was smiling, this awful experience didn’t seem quite so awful.

\---

At least six hours (Simon lost count of the exact time along time again) after they first arrived at the hospital, Simon, Lindsey and Baz found themselves back in the Land Rover. Lindsey propped his cast up on the seat beside him, and rested his crutches on the floor. He looked exhausted, but he was much more cheerful now; Simon could tell his smile was now genuine.

Lindsey didn’t chat to him and Baz very much – he seemed to be nodding off on a couple of the times Si looked at him in the rear view mirror – but Simon didn’t mind. Instead, Baz turned on the CD player and they listened to an eighties compilation CD: all three of them loved the 1980s, the decade when they were in their teens. They were in their twenties now, but Simon, personally, didn’t feel any more mature, and Linds and Baz definitely weren’t.

After driving for a couple of hours, they passed the field which contained the dreaded hill, and Lindsey actually shuddered.

An hour or so after that, Simon was suddenly aware that Lindsey was speaking to him.

“Thanks, Si, and you too, Baz,” Lindsey said.

“For what?” Simon said, a little confused.

Lindsey looked embarrassed, ducking his head. “For . . . everything.”

Simon smiled at Lindsey in the rear view mirror, feeling so relieved that his friend was all right that he almost forgot how badly they had argued that morning.

“It’s nothing, mate,” he said, and Lindsey smiled.


End file.
